30 March Crossed the date line today. Though the sun, the ocean, the wheeling stars are no different, today we are East where we were West. We are vast and a world away. Fish are scarce and the weather cold.
5 April Bright skies today have unsettled the old hands, though I can’t get a handle on why. Sat. feeds say the weather’ll hold through the week so it isn’t that. The fish are still scarce, but that’s my worry, not theirs, and anyway has been true since we set out. What’s got to them? Their anxiety’s infected me and I’m afraid. The blankness of the sky encourages morbidity — no sun, just endless light everywhere — as though God has turned away from us. Perhaps that’s it. The winds hold steady and the sea is easy, though the nights are still bitter.
1 May Another death. What is it? There’s no illness, no violence, no poison that we can find, just death, over and over again, randomly. 33 so far, all ages, all healths, all ranks. The men are restless and angry and I am afraid. And still there are no fish, and still the skies are bright, too bright, and we are a week from port. If we can just make it to Japan, perhaps some answers can be found. Perhaps… I don’t know.