August Four

Three weeks since we left Uberth for Maquitena. A northwest wind lent us one-hundred miles that first day and the same the next. A storm on the third day took us off course fifty miles, forcing us to use the mountains on our starboard for bearing. We followed those hills for twenty-five miles, then chased the sun until the week was through – now four-hundred seventy five miles total in our journey. Now the captain had us dock at the nearest city for supplies. Soon we will follow the river north to open sea.


August Nine

We have been traveling west four days now, sailing fifty miles a day. The meats we bought must have been bad, for several men fell ill. We are heading north to the Tip of Bairn for needed medicine.

August Ten

Jonas and Istfan did not get medicine in time. Some blame the captain for their deaths.

August Fourteen

One hundred fifty miles northeast into open sea. We have lost the wind. The crew is agitated, stirred up by the first mate.

August Seventeen

Three days, no wind.

August Eighteen

A breeze brought us fifty more miles northeast.

August Twenty-Five

Been dead in water. Crew threatening mutiny. One man shot.

August Twenty-Seven

Fire on board. Charts destroyed. Panic. Captain in brig.

August Twenty-Eight

Blessed wind. We went fifty miles north, then fifty northwest.

September Three

Caught wind west. Fifty miles.

September Five

Crew found fragment of burnt chart. Heading north. Hoping

September Six

One hundred miles, still no sight of land. Men resorting to spoiled meat.

September Nine

Going in circles. Most crew dead, including captain. Starving. Have decided to head east as far as we can go.

September Twelve

Sunday. The Lord’s Day. Found land…hills, warm beaches, trees. Burying dead then heading for town in distance. Hope they are friendly.

Riddle of the Rose - Deciphered

We buried our prize where the northern rose blooms…two hundred fifty miles down its western root