seeing land to the north, went thither in that mistaken belief. The current opposed us so powerfully that, the wind having freshened considerably, we could not gain a palmo of land. As we then were, we should have reached Macasar in one week; but my sins were the reason why we did not arrive until the following October. To reach that land, we placed ourselves in the care of God and fortune. On Holy Saturday, (the last of March) when we tried to cast anchor we felt the boat ground upon some shoals. I cannot describe the confusion that arose, and what I saw and suffered. All cried out "Lower the sails!" but no one attempted to lower them. I got into a corner to commend myself to God, for I thought that the end had come. The sea went down, and we saw that we were surrounded by sandbanks and shoals, except for the channel, through which we had sailed under the guidance of God. The stern was in fourteen brazas and the bow was hard and fast. We worked more than half the night; and, luckily for us, the weather was clear and calm. The sea rose, and, with the tow-ropes that were cast out and the other efforts that were made, the ship was set afloat without having sprung a leak. At dawn we set sail once more. O! what a sad Easter was ours! Our supplies were daily diminishing, and the perplexity in which we were was increasing hourly. In fine, after a week we found ourselves embayed, and could find no outlet into the sea. Small boats were plying to and fro in that region. They took us for pirates, and we took them for robbers, so that we fled from each other without finding any way of getting light on the place where we were. We had already found by the sun that we were lost, for we were two degrees in north latitude, which did not accord with our sailing directions. We spent another week in getting out of that bay. We saw clearly the land of the other side, and as we had good weather to cross the commander wished, contrary to the opinion of all, to remain and to anchor until next day. As we were eating he said to us: "All oppose me. Is not your Reverence of my opinion that we should cross on Saturday morning?" I answered "Sir, the best time for crossing is when God gives us a good wind." He was silent, but stuck to his opinion. At three in the afternoon on the second day of the crossing, on the eve of St. Mark, so strong a southwester arose, that it was necessary to run before the wind, near shore, without knowing of the shoals that were there. That was one of the most wretched nights that I have passed on sea. The mainsail was torn into shreds, the yard was broken, the foremast was snapped off, and the rod of the steering-gear was broken. We all went into the cabin, and recited the rosary and the litanies of our Lady, waiting for what God was going to do with us. All had already confessed. After midnight, being worn out, I fell asleep in a little corner. When I awakened, the wind had ceased, but the dead seas troubled us greatly. We saw