Mar del Sur. November 28, 1520

Magellan has given us several days rest and we are now ready to attempt the crossing of this vast sea. The Admiral believes we will be able to reach the Spice Islands in a month. He plans to sail north along the coast of the continent until we escape the frigid air of the arctic, and then strike out across this vast sea.

We have fired one more round of artillery as a respectful greeting to this unknown ocean and are ready to continue our voyage.

Mar Pacifica. December 26, 1520

It seems this ocean had surprises in store for us that no could have imagined. How can I begin to explain what has happened? Magellan calls it a miracle, but I don't know. I look at the child playing on the deck in front of me and I wonder what curious whim of Fate, what strange destiny, has brought him here to me.

-----

After leaving the strait, we sailed north, leaving the stormy waters of the arctic behind us. Or so we thought. But the southern sea wouldn't let us escape without one last show of her true strength.

A week ago, the wind began to rise and the sky once again became threatening. A storm worse than any we had experienced in the entire journey hit us with unimaginable force. For days we struggled to keep the ships afloat, though we usually ended up clinging to the masts and rails.

The 18th of December started the same, dark and foreboding. Our ships were sailing close together, fearing we would lose each other in the wrath of the storm. This region was uncharted to the western world, making the discovery we next encountered all the more mysterious. Suddenly, in the midst of the fury of the storm, someone called out, "Look! Over there! That ship is sinking!"

In disbelief, I struggled foreword to the forecastle and looked out into the vast, churning ocean. There, only a few hundred yards from the Trinidad, a strange ship was breaking up in the water. Despite the darkness and the rain, the ship was perfectly visible, its bright colors standing out against the black of the sky and sea. Its shape was something like a galleon or não but, obviously, its construction was hardly adequate. I then saw something that changed my curiosity and bewilderment to a sense of urgency. A man stood on the stern deck, the only part of the strange vessel still above water. He was waving one hand frantically and seemed to be holding something with the other. Then I heard his calls for help...they were in Spanish!

Someone called out, "There's a man aboard her!"

"We should rescue him!"

"How can we! We're having enough trouble keeping ourselves afloat!"

While my shipmates continued to argue about the situation, I decided to take action. A long stretch of rope lay not far from where I stood. Taking hold of it, I tied an end of it to the ship.

"What are you doing, Mendoza!" a familiar voice asked desperately.

I glanced back and saw Antonio and a few others standing just behind me, and smiled, "Going for a quick swim!" I replied. Grabbing the other end of the rope, I moved to the rail and tied it around my waist. Jumping into the ocean was seemed to be becoming a regular activity of mine as of late. Thinking only of my goal, I dove over the side of the Trinidad and into the turbulent sea.

The shock of the frigid water took my breath away. Nearly as icy cold as the morning of the mutiny, but at that time the sea had been calm. I felt as if I was swimming up mountains. The waves were monstrous, towering above me as I toiled on toward the dying ship and its stranded passenger. Finally, I grasped the rail and pulled myself aboard.

I stood face to face with the stranger. I wanted to ask who he was and how he had come to be in this situation. He was obviously European and looked to be about the same age as myself. He didn't say anything either, but I could see the desperation in his eyes. Yet a dawning hope and strength of will shone in them as well. And, for the first time, I could see what he held in his arms...a young child. From the way he protected the boy, this stranger had to be his father.

The stranger extended his arms to me, giving me his son. And I accepted the burden of the child, sensing in him a common destiny with my own.

Holding the boy securely against my body with one arm, I offered my free hand to the strange traveler. I didn't see the immense wave that was about to crash over us as he grasped my hand. A moment later, I felt something cold and massive slam into me. I lost my grip on the stranger and fell back into the sea.

Forced down under the water, I felt the child struggling weakly. I wrapped both arms around him and kicked desperately toward what I hoped was the surface. I broke through, gasping for air, and held the screaming baby above my head. And I saw a disk of gold hung around his neck.

I looked around for the boy's father, hoping he had abandoned his doomed vessel...but there was nothing. No man, no ship, just the raging sea. My shipmates later told me the man had remained on the vessel and disappeared in the storm. I'm not sure why, perhaps it was the strength I saw in his eyes - the will and passion to fight Fate to the end, but I feel somehow he survived the storm.

I was still in the water and holding the child close to me as my companions aboard the Trinidad began hauling on the rope, pulling us back to the safety of the ship.

I took the opportunity to examine the strange golden medallion around the boy's neck. It was a circle with strange etchings on its face and back. Looking closer, I could see the medallion had two parts. One was shaped like a crescent moon and was attached to the cord that circled the boy's neck. The other was a circle and looked like the sun.

Without conscious thought, I took hold of the medallion with both hands and pulled. The circle came free and I held it tightly. It was theft, pure and simple and there is no excuse. And yet, though I know it is wrong, I will not give it back! I am learning to trust my instincts and they tell me this small piece of gold is something of tremendous value.

I finally made it back to my ship and was pulled on board. The constant battle with the cold water and waves had left me exhausted. I dropped to my knees on the deck, still clutching the boy. He was crying from the cold and fright, but I didn't have the strength to do anything for him. By this time, a rather large group had gathered around to see what I had brought back with me yet none offered any help.

Suddenly, a pair of black leather boots stepped into view. I raised myself up onto one knee and met Magellan's gaze. He didn't speak, merely held out his arms to the take the wailing infant from me. I was amazed to the see the stern, serious Captain easily calm the boy. Almost at once, the child was smiling and laughing.

And then something happened that I just could not, cannot, explain. The storm that still rampaged around us suddenly blew itself out. It didn't die down or slowly dissipate. It ended with such suddenness, it took our breath away.

I watched as Magellan walked to the rail of the Trinidad and looked out at the setting sun. He had a strange look of wonder on his face as he held the mysterious child I had saved from the sea.

Shortly after this strange event, the fleet turned away from the New Continent. These last days have been as fair as a sailor could hope for. The wind continues to drive us out across the sea and there have been no more storms.

The day following the rescue, I was once again ordered to appear in Magellan's cabin. Enrique led me in and I saw the Admiral sitting in a chair with the boy laughing happily on the deck in front of him.

I smiled. "He seems to have taken to you, Captain."

Magellan looked up at me. "Ah, Mendoza. You never cease to surprise me!"

I shrugged and replied, "I only did what I felt I must, sir."

He nodded. "I want you to look after this boy. Keep him safe."

"But Captain," I protested, "I don't know anything about children and..."

Magellan raised his hand, silencing my objections. "The boy's father gave him to you, so you must be his guardian. Do not worry. He will stay with me when you are on watch and you will dine each day here in my cabin." At least there was some benefit to this situation. "I know it is a lot to demand when you already have your studies and regular duties, but I feel it is for the best."

"Yes, Captain."

After I finished speaking with the Admiral, I took the boy back on deck with me.

Antonio approached curiously. "So this is the boy you rescued. Do you have any idea what his name is?"

I shook my head. "I didn't have time for conversation."

I had hardly seen Antonio the last few weeks. He is always with the Indian we had brought with us from San Julian. He has been trying to learn his language, with some success, and to convert him to the Faith. I have never met anyone as fascinated with people as him.

"Then what should we call him?" My friend wondered aloud as he watched the boy crawling along the deck.

I sighed. "I don't know if he is even christened. I am just going to call him niño until we return to Spain. Then, perhaps, I can find out who he is and if he has any family."

We watched in silence as the boy played. Despite his wailing at our first encounter, he seemed to be good natured, hardly ever fussing and quick to smile and laugh. As I told the Captain General, I don't know much about children, but I would guess the child's age to be about a year old, more or less. Although it is a constant chore to keep up with him, I find I enjoy my new duties. The niño enjoys watching the strange flying fish that inhabit this ocean, laughing as they soar over the ship.

These fish have proven to be more than a mere distraction as we have found them to be very good to eat. They add a welcome variety to our dwindling provisions. The farther we sail, the more I fear our stores may soon be stinking and our water vile. I am fortunate in that I now share a meal with the Admiral and his few chosen companions. Every night I take the niño to Magellan's cabin where we eat with the Admiral, Cristovão, Antonio and Enrique. The Captain and I talk of navigation and he believes it may be yet another month before we reach the Spice Islands.

"The Admiral certainly has a way with children," I said thinking. "He is usually so stern it is surprising."

Antonio leaned back against the ship's rail with an 'I know something you don't' look on his face. "Not really," he informed me. "Didn't you know that he has a son only a little older than this boy?" he nodded toward the niño. "And his wife is expecting another." I looked at my friend in surprise. Antonio continued smugly, "I've also heard that Cristovão is his son as well."

That would certainly explain a lot. I looked back to Antonio and laughed. "I don't know what to make of you, Antonio. Sometimes I think you are the most inept spy imaginable and then you tell me something that astounds me."

He shrugged and walked over to pick up the wandering child. "You never know with me, Mendoza."

As I finish writing this entry, the sun is setting on another day and we draw closer to our destination. As part of the record he is making of this voyage, Magellan has been making a map of the new places we have discovered. When it comes time to name this vast ocean, the Admiral says he will name it Mar Pacifica, as we have encountered no storms since we found the niño. I can only hope that the sea will remain calm and our journey across it will be easy.

The fleet and its crew have already been through so many trials, I don't know how many more we can bare. And the presence of this child complicates things even more as I am responsible for his care and safety. Who is he? Where did he come from? I must discover the secret of this boy and his strange medallion.

May the worst of the expedition be behind us.