4) I was deeply disappointed to learn that Cape Horn was but an island. It would be a few more days until, passing through the Wollaston Islands, we would head to Navarin Isle, now Navarino, thence across the Beagle Channel to Ushuaia. That last word was whispered to me through a crack in the cabin door. But why whisper? To avoid detection? From Dr. Creep who only cares for my well being? Less sense will be followed, it is hoped, by more sense. In time, now three days. Tres dias. I am concerned about Dr. Creep, however. He did say Cape Horn. Now we are going to Ushuaia. Are there others involved in my care?
I can now walk freely along the ship's perimeter, tethered by a cable to the railing. The seas are rough. Though not a prisoner what else am I or is anyone on such a ship, and in this place? My prison is carrying me to health. That is how I must look at it.

I fell asleep and had an odd dream. I tormented penguins while riding on a bicycle. Then it was their turn. I'll keep the rest to myself.

Strange as it may sound, I think I am shaving in my sleep. I woke up bleeding from a dozen little cuts about my chin and throat. Dead skin was scraped away. I am healthy just under! Still...I shall prop a chair against my door to retard a possible intruder. I hope he speaks english.