Friday, January 22, 1526
We have finally made it into the entrance of the Estrecho de Magallanes, but not without drama. On reaching the straits, a violent storm blew up and we were again thrown into confusion. The Sancti Spiritus was driven ashore. Nine souls were lost. She was under the command of our chief pilot, Elcano, who is also second in command of the fleet. The following day she broke up in a severe gale which destroyed all her bread and much wine and merchandise. Elcano transferred to the Anunciada to resume his acting command of the squadron, leaving his crew to live on shore as best they can.
Elcano has clearly been affected by the loss of his vessel and, I doubt not, by the loss of his men. I would not like to fall victim to the same circumstance.
But all is not dismal. We have been greatly blessed by the return of the Santa Maria and San Gabriel. As a fleet of six ships now, we are feeling optimistic about the journey ahead through the straits. The spirits of the men remain high. There has only been some minor disciplinary action needed to date, that for men who have fallen asleep during their watch or used foul language in the hearing of the officers. For the most, the journey is one of the most pleasant I have partaken in.
Saturday, February 13, 1526
Our joy at the reunited squadron was short-lived. Another gale blew up and forced me to put my little caravel to sea to avoid being wrecked in the straits. I remained there the next few days, along with the other caravel, drifting south into the coldest seas I have ever known. We travelled fifty-eight leagues south of the straits in all, and had to battle our way back. The men and I are tired and miserable, but there has been something good in our misfortune. When we were at the 56th parallel, our lookout informed me of open waters to the west of a land’s end. This would mean there is a passage between the Oceano Atlantico and El Pacifico. Upon rejoining the fleet, I reported this discovery to Loaisa, who has had the cartographer add the passage to our charts. Loaisa has bestowed a great honour on me and named it after my family, el Mar de Hoces. My father, God rest his soul, would have been very proud to have seen this day.
During our absence, the Anunciada also put out to sea and hasn’t since been seen. The flagship, Santa Maria, has also now run aground and although she has been refloated, is in need of repairs. We are so battered that Loaisa has decided we will return north to the Rio Santa Cruz for a complete overhaul. This decision has greatly displeased the captain of the San Gabriel. He has chosen to depart from the expedition and is heading back to Spain. We keep getting smaller. We are now a fleet of just four ships, three of us less than 80 tons a piece. Our total tonnage has been halved. It means we have taken on some of the supplies of the wrecked vessels, but we are also running heavier, having taken on extra crew. My 36 berth ship is now home to 52 men.
I am starting to question if we can continue our journey. Will we make it through the Estrecho de Magallanes with our lives?