A general update: The captain has been uttering unthinkable utterances. Some of the men fear that he has caught the Consumption from a prostitute, Errol, his best girl. I have been avoiding close contact with him where possible, mostly confining myself to my cabin and the waste trough I share with the other other men convicts. Myself and several others have taken to warding off Delirium and Brainstop by appreciating and discussing various musics. One of the fellows, an Irish lad, smuggled aboard a collection of burnt CDRs filled with various club tracks, while a fellow Englishman inexplicably owns a fairly decent set of CDJs. We have been learning earnestly, and hopefully by the time we dock in new South-Wales we will be able to seek our fortune as proficient DJs.
{The rest of this entry is illegible, as it is stained with salted pork rations and a crude list, written in texta, titled "128bpm"}
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spectacular
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