Although I had not previously said it, we gave the pirates something in gratitude for not blowing us out of the water (They did the same, actually. A bottle of rum they gave). The captain presented them with knowledge of a special knot that I created quite by chance the day before.
      Not much else is going on. I hear that the Roman girl went parachuting over the volcanic crater of the island Fogo. Her name is quite ironic. Also in the news, my caterpillar friends drank all of my 200-year-old-rum (and got drunk as well)! Back in the future, that rum would've gone for thousands. Quite a rainy day, I'm simply sitting in my hammock thinking.
      Uncle still thinks that he's going insane; he paces around his cabin all day mumbling to himself. I actually agree with him. He's going mad.
I haven't gone far into my secret room yet, so I will be exploring it today.

      The Following is Bartholemeu's documentation of the depths of his secret storeroom. It is not copyrighted. Feel free to rip Bart off and get filthy rich with it.

      It is dark... Of course... The walls appear to be made out of oakum stuffed with wood instead of vice versa. There is a chilling, wretched, bad-guy voice saying...
      "You cannot deny the power of HILOT!"
      What, who would be so horrid to say "You cannot deny the power of Hilot!"? This ship is indeed haunted. Through an [oakum and wood] ventilator grid, I can see the faint outline of a human, or, rather a monster, whacking a dead rat with a board.
      "You cannot deny the power of HILOT!!!"
      Before I can do anything to intervene, I am swept through a rather infinite void. A black hole approaches. I am stretched. I turn red. I implode. I appear in the captain's room?
      Yes, in the captain's room. I am laying down the back of his gold-plated armchair. In his personal notebook-journal-diary-record-thing, the words: