Long years have I been confined in this God-forsaken, God-forgotten place. So slowly t he time passes, some days I feel I've been here for two hundred years. But impatience is a great obstacle to success; he who treats everything with brusqueness gathers nothing, or only immature fruit which will never ripen. Greatness is nothing unless it be lasting.
And I knew my time will come… the time for Order and the glorious principles of our Revolution to return to France. My supporters have spread all accross Europe to raise the funds for our cause. In 2 weeks they will be auctioning the bicorne I wore in the Victory of Marengo. That will be the signal for my escape and return.
But how to escape St. Helena? For years my dear soldiers have tried all kinds of plans. The answer arrived in a small boat chartered by the company Analog, that worries itself in the noble and vital endeavour of Geography, Charts and Maps.
For months they have been absorbed in the honorable task of charting islands around the world – including my jail St. Helena – to use in the sketch notebooks they produce, an indispensable tool for any general in the battlefield: a good sketch is better than a long speech.
They have rendered unforgettable assistance to the Empire producing a precise map of Prosperous Bay. Oh, the irony! I'll leave this island by the same point my captors first landed on it.
Furthermore, to commemorate my escape, Analog's admirals consented on giving away one St. Helena notebook to any order of $35 or more of their notebooks, from now and until my hat is auctioned (Nov 17th).
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