* I believe that this is the only accurate quote from Elizandra in the entire story. She confided in me she threatened to shoot him in the … ahem … masculine identity if he didn’t include it in the official narrative.

* And by that he means precisely 18.3 fathoms. I went back and measured.

* Yes, I am aware that he has quoted this poem six different times through the course of this narrative, and has said it a little differently each time. No, he will not allow me to change them and make them consistent.

* Those readers with a knowledge of buoyancy and pressure should probably stop here, as opposed to working out the mathematics of what a single lungful of air could manage under these circumstances.

* If a bag of air was all that was needed to raise the treasure, one wonders why the grandest of all windbags himself needed the aforementioned sheep’s bladder.

* Sigh.

* Yes, they forgot about me.

* And so, we come to the end of another annotated volume. I’m certain that discerning readers of elegance and respectability will appreciate my long-suffering efforts in keeping Jak alive, if only because I suspect these edited accounts provide them with an individual blend of amusement on long winter evenings. I bid you farewell, then. Jak promises further adventure and mystery, but I make a more humble promise. I’m going to try to get him to use proper punctuation in his letters for once in his life. I believe my task to be the more difficult of the two, by far.

Handerwym of Inner Terris
    The 17th of Hammondar, 341