The last I wrote to you was when we were leaving the Canary Islands in September. Columbus told us the journey would only be 600 leagues, but I now know he was lying. Had he told us how long the journey was really, no one would have helped him. When we had gone more than the 600 leagues that Columbus said the distance was, many became restless. Some of the other sailors even spoke of mutiny. Our water supply had become stagnant, the food supply low. God must have looked favorably on Columbus, for whenever mutiny seemed imminent, the winds picked up, as did our spirits. Nearly a month had gone by, though, and we seemed no closer to land. Columbus kept assuring us that land was just over the horizon. He ordered that a man be on lookout for the land night and day. Finally, we started to see signs of land. Birds in the air, swarms of insects, "It can't be far now," Columbus said. We knew the land was there, we only wished we could get there faster. We measured our speed by dropping wooden planks from the front of the ship, then timing how long it takes to sail past the planks. We were moving at a good pace, but the minutes seemed like an eternity each. Then the next morning I awoke to the cry: "LAND HO!" We had made it! We set out on the long boats, and I kissed the beach. Then we met the natives. They spoke in a strange tongue, and walked around naked. Some of the elder ones had gold ornaments. Columbus motioned to these ornaments, and the natives gladly gave them to us. It seemed that because of the way we look, the natives took us for gods. We went to other islands, and were treated the same way. Then, yesterday, the Santa Maria struck a reef off one of the islands. Columbus took this as a sign, and founded a colony, La Navidad. I chose to stay. Columbus says he will leave in a few days for Spain, so I took the chance to write you this letter. Please tell everyone that I miss you all.