After ten long years stranded amongst hideous savages whose idea of a good time was poking a monkey with a stick to see what it would do, I have finally returned to England, and civilization. I will tell you the story of my rescue another day, but I am faced with more pressing matters now. My first task upon arriving in London was to seek out my beloved brother, Patrick, and after asking in every respectable establishment, I finally happened upon a black-toothed Dutchman named Hans Broekman who told me a tale that made me weep with grief and rage.
According to Mr. Broekman, my dear Patrick had taken to associating with a pair of unchristian mercenaries who had turned his thoughts away from the Lord and in the direction of that foulest of demons—Profit. These reprobates have taken to posting accounts of their vile misdeeds on a hideous, sinful blog called Peep This Diary, and there I learned of their unforgivable crime against me and my family: Some weeks ago (oh, what cruel fate that I did not return earlier), they sent my poor, impressionable brother on a fool's errand to India on a ship captained by none other than Gustavo Araoz—the very man who left me for dead after wrecking our ship in a monsoon so many years ago. According to the logs of the East India Company, which I hastened to check after learning this horrible news, the ship never reached its destination, and my only brother now rests at the bottom of the ocean, while his cruel friends continue their sinful lives of leisure without so much as a word of regret.
I shall have my revenge!
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