The ship was ready to sail on Sunday, July 2, 1649, “but some hindrance occurred.” On the following day, however, she ran out of the harbor under a favorable north-west wind. The course led close by England, through the Spanish sea and “the Eastern Passage.” Drawing near to the West Indian Islands the captain decided to land at Antigua for the purpose of replenishing the supply of fresh water. No fresh water could be had, but the Swedes were kindly treated by the English Governor. From Antigua they proceeded to St. Christopher, where they laid to on August 21. Here water and other refreshments were plentiful and freely given by the governor of the island. Thereupon the ship-council resolved to buy a few lasts of salt at St. Martin and on the twenty-second of August they cast anchor there. On Saturday evening August 26, they were again ready to continue their voyage. As soon as the captain came on board he ordered sails spread, but one of the passengers was missing, and Amundsson and the other officers implored the captain not to leave port before all the passengers were on the ship. In the night, however, when Amundsson was asleep, he weighed anchor. An excellent wind filled their canvas all that night and the next day, and the ship sped straight on its way like a modern steamer. But on the second evening they came into dangerous waters. About two o’clock at night the schooner struck a cliff with a crashing noise. Instantly everybody was on deck. Amundsson and other officers anxiously requested the captain to lower sails and bring the ship to, but, like Dumas’ Captain Chubin, he simply answered “it will all pass over.” A second shock was felt, however, and again the officers clamorously demanded the captain to furl sails and proceed no further; but he said: “I am well acquainted here, it will all pass over.” But there was a third shock and a crash and a long cry; a cliff had penetrated the prow and the ship stuck on a rock. In the hope of floating her they threw the ballast over-board. Later the water and salt from St. Martin were given to the waves, but the ship remained on the cliff. As day approached the people could see land about thirteen miles away, a small uninhabited island, some eighty miles from Porto Rico. Thither women and children were taken in lifeboats, but the men stayed on the ship. In the meantime a severe storm arose making it necessary to cut down the masts to prevent the wind breaking the ship in two. The following morning the provisions were removed from the ship and she was abandoned by the men, who joined the women on shore. The shipwrecked ones were now, however, in a miserable plight, as they “could not find a drop of water on the island.” “We had to lick the stones with our tongues,” says the narrator of their misfortunes. Such was their condition for eight days.