It has been a gentle passage this time. Winds have been fair, and the days pleasant. The heat has forced most of the passengers to stay covered much of the time, but this is only a minor concern. We have plenty of water and rations, so heatstroke or dehydration are not threats.
Still, my mind cannot seem to rest tonight. I wonder about this one Angeline; I think she suspects some treachery of me, and although I know it is not needed, I feel obliged to quell her fears. I worry too about the others on board; from the hostile attitudes they have shown, I wonder how well they will fare at their destination; of the men, only the big one Joseph seems to truly understand and appreciate what he has now earned. More than all that, I think of the place we are headed. It has not been the same since little Samuel rose to some prominence in the village, yet I cannot say exactly where the change has taken place. How concerned should I be about him and his effect on the others?

I had two glasses of wine in my cabin before turning in tonight; perhaps not the wisest thing to do, but I felt sleep would be slow in coming if not helped along its way by some soporific. I have always heard it said that alcohol stifles dreams, but it must have been absent from its that aspect of its duties this night, for it seemed when I lay, I slipped almost immediately into a dream of unusual strength and clarity.