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January 17th<br />I find myself in the Bonny Prince Charlie, a Coastal inn some 80 miles west of Inverness. Tomorrow we set sail for the Hebrides. The weather forecast is bad and as I look from my window across the sea, a great foreboding steals up upon me, as a real as the storm clouds themselves, that at this very moment roll in from the East blotting the Stars from the sky. | January 17th<br />I find myself in the Bonny Prince Charlie, a Coastal inn some 80 miles west of Inverness. Tomorrow we set sail for the Hebrides. The weather forecast is bad and as I look from my window across the sea, a great foreboding steals up upon me, as a real as the storm clouds themselves, that at this very moment roll in from the East blotting the Stars from the sky. | ||
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January 18th<br />We have set up camp for the night. It is a relief to be once again on dry land. The journey was bad, as if the ocean itself was trying to bar our progress. For a long while it was touch and go whether we would be drowned at sea, or smashed upon the rocks themselves.<br />If I weren't a man of science I would have feared that something was trying to stop us from reaching our journey's end. Still tomorrow we set out in search of the burial grounds shown on the map | January 18th<br />We have set up camp for the night. It is a relief to be once again on dry land. The journey was bad, as if the ocean itself was trying to bar our progress. For a long while it was touch and go whether we would be drowned at sea, or smashed upon the rocks themselves.<br />If I weren't a man of science I would have feared that something was trying to stop us from reaching our journey's end. Still tomorrow we set out in search of the burial grounds shown on the map | ||