January third, 1832

   Dear Diary,

    As I was rushing over to a sick Darwin with my seasickness remedy, Captain FitzRoy came up to me and started rubbing my head! He said that I had secretiveness and constructiveness, whatever that means.
   Also, no one seems to have done anything for my birthday, unless you call Mr. X trying to catch me a "present". I was expecting something, especially since—besides the people who came to the ship through the Stofer Interface—no one knows when my birthday is, so I suppose I wonąt get any presents this year.