November, 1943 If ever, Cortney Anders promised himself, I get out of this mother of a thunderstorm there is a thing I will do if it is the last act of my life.

Sonny had had to change his mind about so many things, as his life changed, as the very meaning of his ridiculous name changed - first a hangover from sentimental parents, then a nickname to reassure the crowds at rallies that he was one of them, then an addendum to his full names in a prison dossier: 'also known as Sonny'. A common criminal with aliases.

The Natives have paid up their hut-tax, amounting to about £65, and appear to have plenty of money.

Indeed, I cannot commend my life; for I am conſcious to my ſelf of many failings: therein, I know alſo that a man by his converſation, may ſoon overthrow what by argument or perſwaſion he doth labour to faſten upon others for their good: […]