January 1, 1741
I said my good-byes. I would not see my friends again. It was hard, but I no longer shared the same vision. I was tired; two years of traveling, struggling to live each day, can do that. I just wanted to rest.
January 2, 1741
I rode my horse down to the dockside and looked out over the harbour, toward the San Ignacio, anchored about nine hundred feet out. I took a small rowboat and made my way toward the ship. The time was just after midnight; the moon was over casted by clouds. As I got close to the ship, I was once again reminded of its size. It was majestic as it sat there. The only light was from a single oil lantern burning at the stern of the ship to mark its position in the harbour.
I pulled up alongside the ship and tied the small boat off. I the
