The water is wide, I cannot get o'er|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 4 most recent journal entries recorded in
|Thursday, January 31st, 2008|
|The Cape of Good Hope is full of neither.
My dear readers, and dearest Meghan,
I cannot apologize profusely enough for my extended absence and any grief it has caused. The satellite connection to the internet was, of course, the first thing to malfunction upon our exit from Paris, and the ports we've been visiting have not been particularly technologically adept.
Alas, I cannot in good faith discuss the details of the majority of my adventures - classified data and all that. Suffice to say, we've had run ins with pirates, pygmies, parrots, and parasites, alone with many other non-alliterative difficulties.
Aside from a rather unfortunate hair cut, I have remained miraculously free of injury, and am in good health.
I long to know how you are all doing - do reply as soon as possible.
Postscript: The time spent away from you, my dear dear love, has pained me beyond all measure. Did you think I was killed? Taken by the sea? Or did you, worst of all, think I had abandoned you for some native beauty?
Are you faithful to my love still? Please, please let me know. I yearn to read words typed by your own delicate fingers, even if they be sorrowful ones. Current Mood: anxious
|Saturday, September 3rd, 2005|
We sail with the evening tide.
Thankfully, however, the first officer has managed to acquire some gadget that will supposedly give us internet access at sea. Satellite nonsense which I don't entirely understand, but will certainly make use of. Although I suppose I'll have to be doubly careful with this journal - any classified information intercepted while we're en route could be used against us in ways I don't dare contemplate.
Worry not, I'll be as careful as is prudent. Current Mood: anxious
|Friday, September 2nd, 2005|
Due to a long stretch of bad weather, we're still trapped in Paris. I miss hearing the English language spoken with an English accent. Not American (no offense darling, but the perversions your people press upon the tongue are traumatising to those of us with more linguistic honour), not Indian (surprisingly common), and certainly not French (they're worse than the cockney lads for dropping the letter h), but English. Also, any people that considers buttered snail to be an acceptable dietrary addition is one I'd like to see thrown into the Atlantic. Repeatedly.
Forgive my vitriol...the longer this mission is delayed, the longer it will be before I'm reunited with my darling. Travel to Africa, even in this modern day, is dangerous and fraught with Peril. Though I always endeavor to act with caution and with an eye towards safety where my men are concerned, I have some misgivings about our preparedness for any sort of conflict.
But fear not, dearest, your love protects me more surely than any armor. Current Mood: gloomy
|Monday, August 29th, 2005|
|This all seems a bit strange
Greetings and Salutations, O great void of the internet. And Meghan, of course. This whole concept throws me for a loop...a journal is an inherently private thing, isn't it? A place to unburden oneself without the complications that arise from public discussion? Yet here I am, discussing matters with the aether.
The ocean is a lonely mistress. She cannot discuss literature or poetry or politics, not like my other, truer love. Forgive me for speaking so boldly of our affair, darling...it is hard to remove myself from the "privacy" of a traditional journal. And we are so very far apart...I sitting in the dreadful Parisian "Internet Cafe", you, I presume, safe in your home.
Nonetheless, it is comforting to realize that we are both connected by this singular service known as Livejournal...and of course, the stars as well.
My ship leaves port in two days, heading for Africa. I've no idea when next I'll be able to contact you, so please...comment if you can before then.
Horatio Current Mood: melancholy