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[Page 16]

1917
2nd June.
In one corner a group of niggers were squatting on their haunches and chattering – in another an Irish-Liverpool fireman was torturing a waltz out of a concertina to a rapt group of assorted cockneys, & other former occupants of the foc'sl. A small corner was partitioned off for officers – prominent playing bridge being the venerable looking Captain of the barque "Dee" – a pious white-bearded old fraud who bore the classic sobriquet of "Mudguts".

An armed sentry marches to and fro among the prisoners night & day. Finally, we were each given a hammock of brown canvas & a blanket; slung same in a corner of the bulkhead up against the mine-chamber and tried to sleep.

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