I don't mean to have you worry about not hearing from me for so long. The Doctor keeps me so busy I hardly get a moment to stop and write. Slave driver, he is. Last month he left his new bride behind to drag myself, one of the midshipmen, Haberfield, and Taylor inland for a covert mission to recover something or other related to the war.
Don't imagine my lovely Miss Nowack that I strayed an inch away from you, even surrounded as I was by some rather lovely ladies all eager to dance with me. I vowed I shant dance with a soul whilst apart from you. I'll be as true to you as I ever was.
I don't suspect I can be too candid in my note to you, you understand, on account it was for the Admiralty, but I can tell you we were successful in our mission and all returned safely. Since we have been back, though, our ship has fallen under a plague of lice, the Doctor, Jean Baptiste and I have set a large quantity of men aboard ship to the razor to remove their hair to help rid us of the pests. But don't worry my sweet, I've managed to stay clean of the vermin and keep my hair.
I will end this letter for now, but not to end my love for you, dear Miss Nowack. Write me soon so I may survive the long days apart from you.
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