I fear ambush, although better judgment tells me Juet has gotten under my skin, into my head. Day after day, and night after night he urges me to set more men on watch, expecting the people of the country to come over the bulwarks.
I see nothing by night, and by day my eyes detect shoals at every turn. Juet, in the attracting pull of the new continent, has been so thoroughly transformed that I suspect he’s no longer the same man. Days before, we caught a most extraordinary fish. As Juet struggled to bring the fish in, he spoke of dominating this new people. He’s a new soul, his old soul having been banished back to England by the spirits of these waters.
Cathay, the ship’s cat, knows it. As captain, I’m resisting it, denying any distraction.
Bend on more sail, tomorrow I’ll tell the men. Full speed ahead; drive us northward and then on to Cathay, ye zephyrs of August.
(Painting: retouched image of Frederic Edwin Church’s Grand Manan Island, Bay of Fundy, 1852)