June 19th, 1683
Aboard the proud Galleon Sol de los Mares:
Last evening’s distant sail has become today’s urgent matter. Upon waking to discover the sails much larger and more prominent, we decided to make another venture into our former Captain’s cabin this morning in search of a sight glass with which to see greater distance. We found the glass, and far more as it turns out. Our Captain was something of a wealthy man as captains go. Ferdinand discovered an inconsistent board in the cabin wall, and when it was touched just so, it fell open to reveal a cache of gold and papers, as well as six bottles of French wine and drawings from the streets of Paris showing women in the most degraded state one could imagine.
We were also lucky enough to find several more detailed maps within the hidden hole, and Ferdinand took them immediately to Sato for further scrutiny. What boons they may yet bring I cannot say, but the detail in which they were drawn certainly looked promising.
For the second day in a row we held a burial at dawn, despite all the excitement brought on by the ship moving ever closer. The stowaways had nothing of worth on their persons. Nothing to identify them, or left behind for distant loved ones. No one will know their fate but we four, who will do our best to forget this period in our lives and move on if possible.
Ferdinand took up the glass and has carefully observed the approaching ship. It is a schooner, far smaller than the Sol de los Mares, carrying only 4 cannon and a much smaller crew compliment than we originally left port with. She makes good speed in the water according to Ferdinand, and it is good that she’s a small ship and unaware of our former peril. With guns such as ours, she will likely give us a wide berth, being just as unsure of our intentions as we are of hers. Strange how a certain truce exists among ships and their crews. A truce of fear as much as anything it seems. But a truce we desperately need, at least until we reach sheltered harbor.