Thursday, May 22, 1650
Overnight, the Alcmaeon has made its way south. When the party is allowed on deck during the morning, they are able to see the distant coast (for which I could find no decent picture), rocky and covered over with scrub and wild olive trees. The weather is markedly warmer here than it was in Fiume, from where you departed ten days ago.
Omari will approach both Pyxaanthal and Vespasiano. "What has become of your friend?" he will inquire, somewhat insidiously.