We sail west-northwest with the breeze from the west increasing steadily. Cloudy, with unending rain. 2 knots, steady. We are about 600 miles under sail. Unseasonal dampness and warmth threatens to spoil provisions. Crew is haggard and morale is low with none in command sleeping nigh three days. Have the alchemists of the Old World sent us to our deaths chasing a fairytale? “Mere Courage” Log 13
