They think me dead…but not so! It is I, Byrav!
I know, faking your death is a bit old-fashioned nowadays, but I have quite a stash of money outside my estate that’ll do quite nicely until I’m actually dead. In the meantime, I just wanted to see how people would react once they know I’m gone. Yes, perhaps I do need a better hobby.
Jameson seems to be coping well, which I’d expect of my only relative with a lick of sense. He’s thinking of selling the boat, however…I’ll have to find a way to convince him otherwise from beyond the grave. At the very least I need him to find the message I left in the inner cabin, which should make it all clear. One thing I did not plan for: things such as outboard motor repair. Melbourne has its own professionals, of course, but being as rich as me you lose touch with how much things cost. I’ve always had my PA deal with the nitty-gritty details, such as getting the tennis courts trimmed, the marble floors polished and the outboard motors serviced. Surely on such a fine vessel the upkeep must be hefty.
Still, if Jameson finds my hidden message it’ll all be worth it. He’ll find everything his heart desires, including treasure, fame, riches and affordable insurance premiums. That is, if he’s not put off by the price of anchor winches. I looked them up; they’re not unreasonable, but it’s not like you can get a half-price anchor winch from your local supermarket either. I haven’t been insdie a supermarket in…well, probably ever. Never saw the point of them, except convenience for the common folk.
Doesn’t matter, petty details. I’m going to enjoy being dead as much as I can, sailing the seas as a free man on the Victory, my backup boat. With a patch on my eye and a fake beard, I might call into Melbourne, see the anchor winch services and how they’re done. Maybe give my intrepid nephew a poke in the right direction.