Note 30 — Chapter VII

2. We set sail on the fourteenth of February, and I confess that I was soon depressed, and feared that the voyage would turn out ill; for the seamen, who in accordance with all good reasoning ought to live with greater discretion and fear, commenced to go astray. The east winds were blustering by that time, but to us it appeared that they had shut themselves up in their secret treasuries. We reached Zamboanga March six, where we met the relief ship that was en route to Terrenate. It had taken on rice and meat at Oton, and their commandant was already dead. At seven o’clock at night we continued our journey, and in a sudden squall the sail swept our best sailor into the sea, and he stayed there. That misfortune increased my terrors. During our crossing to the island of Macasar, a distance of sixty leguas, the storms were furious; the waves the most terrible ever seen; the samatras most powerful, although of short duration; and, above all, pilots were unreliable. One morning we awoke to find ourselves among some rugged cliffs and huge rocks; I know not how that boat got among them without being dashed to pieces. We escaped out of that danger, to fall into greater ones. In four or five days we found the weather very clear until half-past eleven o’clock; but when we went to take [observations of] the sun the sky would be darkened and covered with clouds, and we with gloom. The shore was on our left hand—at a distance of about two leguas at times, as we found out afterward; but it was so covered with clouds that we could not descry it. We proceeded for one day with a most favoring wind and weather straight toward our objective point. Our people fancied that it was an immense bay, and seeing land to the north, went thither in that mistaken belief. The current opposed us so powerfully that, the wind having freshened considerably, we could not gain a palmo of land. As we then were, we should have reached Macasar in one week; but my sins were the reason why we did not arrive until the following October. To reach that land, we placed ourselves in the care of God and fortune. On Holy Saturday, (the last of March) when we tried to cast anchor we felt the boat ground upon some shoals. I cannot describe the confusion that arose, and what I saw and suffered. All cried out “Lower the sails!” but no one attempted to lower them. I got into a corner to commend myself to God, for I thought that the end had come. The sea went down, and we saw that we were surrounded by sandbanks and shoals, except for the channel, through which we had sailed under the guidance of God. The stern was in fourteen brazas and the bow was hard and fast. We worked more than half the night; and, luckily for us, the weather was clear and calm. The sea rose, and, with the tow-ropes that were cast out and the other efforts that were made, the ship was set afloat without having sprung a leak. At dawn we set sail once more. O! what a sad Easter was ours! Our supplies were daily diminishing, and the perplexity in which we were was increasing hourly. In fine, after a week we found ourselves embayed, and could find no outlet into the sea. Small boats were plying to and fro in that region. They took us for pirates, and we took them for robbers, so that we fled from each other without finding any way of getting light on the place where we were. We had already found by the sun that we were lost, for we were two degrees in north latitude, which did not accord with our sailing directions. We spent another week in getting out of that bay. We saw clearly the land of the other side, and as we had good weather to cross the commander wished, contrary to the opinion of all, to remain and to anchor until next day. As we were eating he said to us: “All oppose me. Is not your Reverence of my opinion that we should cross on Saturday morning?” I answered “Sir, the best time for crossing is when God gives us a good wind.” He was silent, but stuck to his opinion. At three in the afternoon on the second day of the crossing, on the eve of St. Mark, so strong a southwester arose, that it was necessary to run before the wind, near shore, without knowing of the shoals that were there. That was one of the most wretched nights that I have passed on sea. The mainsail was torn into shreds, the yard was broken, the foremast was snapped off, and the rod of the steering-gear was broken. We all went into the cabin, and recited the rosary and the litanies of our Lady, waiting for what God was going to do with us. All had already confessed. After midnight, being worn out, I fell asleep in a little corner. When I awakened, the wind had ceased, but the dead seas troubled us greatly. We saw land near us, and certain landmarks were recognized, by which we were not a little consoled. We had been one and one-half months in that region. We there encountered the island called Diablo [i.e., Devil’s Island], and we could have entered the kingdom of Totole, if our courage had not failed us. The commander resolved to turn back and go to the kingdom of Bohol,30 in order to lay in fresh supplies. The journey was half over when the wind veered to the bow, and we again ran before it. Thus did we plow through that sea. We returned the second time to Bohol. We were all but gone, and it was my counsel to return. The commander said: “Father, some angel spoke through your Reverence’s lips; for it is a foregone conclusion that we would perish if the furious wind which arose had taken us where we were the day before.” Some things were purchased. We carried thence an Indian from Manila, now half Moroized, who afterward proved a great consolation to us, as he was most experienced on that coast. On Corpus Christi day we anchored near Totole, where we found Captain Navarro, who was also going to Macasar in another champan. We were very joyful at that, although our joy was short-lived. By the variation of time during the voyage which is made through Eastern India, it is well known that twelve hours are gained, while a like time is lost in our Indias. From Terrenate to India the reckoning of the Portuguese is observed. According to our reckoning, we reached that place on Corpus Christi day (a Thursday) which those who were en route from Terrenate reckoned as Friday; so that we had eaten flesh at noon, and at night when we were in the port we ate fish. We lost that day, as well as the following one, which was Saturday—so that, if we had anchored at midnight, we would properly have had a week without any Friday, and only five days long. As for the divine office, although I was not under obligation to recite all the prayers for Friday, I recited, since I had time and to spare, those for Thursday and those for Friday on the very day of Corpus Christi.