His birthday was celebrated with great aplomb. He was given a berth on the convict ship and set sail for Australia.
As his birth rite had been a life of luxury and privilege the berth, he was given came as a bit of a shock. That was the problem when one’s birth and name was taken from you.
Chained to the most disgusting human beings, whose birth rites he was sure could be questioned, he had little choice but to take his given berth as a place to call home for the months it would take to reach their destination.
Several times he tried to strike up a conversation by mentioning it was his birthday and hoping for a rousing chorus to celebrate the fact, but none was forthcoming apart from curses slung across the floor.
After months of being sick, underfed and unloved they made berth in Sydney Cove, and he disembarked into the hottest place he’d ever been.
When they called his name, they asked him his date of birth, and when he told them, they announced he was wrong and that the date they had was different. According to them, he was two years younger.
So, he acquired a new date of birth, which gave rise to the birth of a new man.