Recently, a letter of sorts written by typewriter was delivered to the authorities of Port Royal.
Hello all, I hope you have been well. You thought I was dead? No, that is not the case, sadly for some of you. I remember the day everyone forgot about me. Supposedly murdered by... you know. What you don't know is that I survived. Here is what happened after everyone left. As I awoke, I found myself in my own coffin. Under several layers of newly placed dirt, I managed to open the lid and dig my way out. I decided it was enough, I was to have nothing to do anymore with military. I gathered my things in my old house on Isla Perdida. As I exited the Island, I decided I'd never look back. There was nothing more to be gained by fighting. I changed my identity, using my real name, and travelled to London. Through letters and documentation, I discovered my sister still alive, in a small village not far from London. We met, and all was well.
Until.... the repercussions started happening. People had noticed my empty grave, and someone had ordered the local authorities to check my sister's house to see if I was there. Apparently I'd been tracked. I got out fine... but I don't know what happened to my sister... I wasn't able to see her again.. I hid for weeks on end. I decided it was time to go back to the Caribbean and see if my sister had been relocated there. And here I am. This letter has been typed in the printing press down the Kingston road. You won't find anything there, so be my guest to look.
Do not consider me a threat, but I will defend myself if I am attacked. I am considering piracy, or, if my will permits, enlistment once more.
Signed with the utmost respect,