une 16th, 1683
Continuing the log of the Galleon Sol de los Mares:
The heat becomes even more oppressive. There is a slight breeze today as I sit on the bow of the ship and look out over the still waters all around us, but it offers no respite from the heat and in fact only serves to make it worse. It is a strange position for a farmer’s son to find himself in, aboard a ship without destination. At least for this particular farmer’s son.
Sato managed to explain our problem in more detail today, at least insofar as he was capable with his broken grasp of any civilized language. He makes much headway with the grunting and pointing, and we are especially attentive when he points with his knife, as was the case today as his temper flared over the lack of successful communication. As it turns out our situation seems even less optimistic than I originally thought.
It appears we have been blown off course to the South and West, a good distance from any of the known trade routes and the winds that make them so popular. Looking at the maps we have remaining onboard, we have water in all directions and no charted land in sight. Sato makes a grim and disgusting noise in the back of his throat when he points to a certain area of the Caribbean islands. At first I thought he meant we might be close to that location, but he quickly dispossessed me of that notion. Between Ferdinand and myself we were never able to find out why he has such strong feelings about the area in question, nor why he felt the need to bring it up, so we let it drop. As with many things in life, perhaps time will tell.
Miguel is still holding on to life with every desperate breath. He is a stronger man than I gave him credit for, but I hold with my original assessment. I have seen men die, and he is as close as any. It may be a matter of hours now. He no longer dreams, or if he does, he is too weak to call out. I find myself missing his dreams. How sad that I would live through the dreams of another man so readily. I suppose it is because I no longer have dreams of my own. The things I have seen, and lived through do not lend themselves easily to dreaming. It is far better that I simply sleep, and then wake oblivious to the nightmares of my past.
One other thing of note today was the seas have become noticeably rougher as the day progressed into evening. We now have a very gentle roll from side to side and the boat feels more like it should, even if we still cannot manage even the smallest forward motion. Ferdinand seems encouraged by this, and said before he retired that the winds would follow the seas and we will be on our way shortly.