The Sea is Against Us

The expedition suffers. At first, the lack of wind proved difficult, now the storms strike us. We seem to circle sections of the ocean, always at Isabella's insistence, but it is almost as if the navigation provided by the Heretic is meant to cost us time, our food stores, and our faith. Our supplies run low, and tempers among the crew have risen. I suspect the crew would blame Isabella were it not for her bouts of sickness… not from the voyage, but the fever that seems to strike when the winds become calm. Father Dante has taken to caring for her during these times. When the storms beset us, she is on deck, with an authority and command that puts the crew to task. The men fear her, and just when it seems treason might overshadow these thoughts, her presence quells their doubts. It is a strange sort of command – she uses not facts, but conviction to cow those around her. Even I fear her. I have not mentioned my journal, nor the letters I brought from home chronicling our voyage. I have a strange feeling that Isabella would not be pleased with them. - F.