October ninth, 1492, was beautiful when we left port, but now the sky feels as black as night. I have'nt seen land for at least two months. Columbus tries to cheer us up; it works maybe for and hour. I long to see home again and my wife and children. It seems we will never see land again. Some men have said they see things creeping among the seaweed. I try not to think about it, but I do. Sometimes I wish I had nver come.