Journal of the Captain of the Unsinkable

... Woke up in cold sweat again. I think what Hands is looking for isn't slaves, but fresh meat for the altar. So be it. I'm paid to do a job, not to ask questions. We'll take some prisoners, haul them to the camp near the ruins, then set sail again. Then — repeat, if needed. I should stock up on rum. Can't fall asleep without a drink.