Falil 1, 5675

We are still heading south, but in a slight westward direction as we follow the shore of Etnyben toward the Bay of Ivil. Captain Hegherg told me crossing the entrance to the bay will be a very treacherous trip, and could take up to a month depending on the weather. However, we are still some weeks away from that part of the voyage.

Sidrat has grown despondent and homesick since losing his leg. He is still recovering, but longs to be with his family and away from all the hardship of the sea. I feel for him. He will not be home until sometime next year, and I cannot imagine how hard it must be to lose such a vitally important and useful part of the body.

The fish here along the coast are once again the usual catch, although two days ago, I caught a species of fish none of us had seen before. It had red and yellow stripes along its back, black fins, and a narrow blue mouth. It looked much more appetizing than the bad-tasting monstrosities I was catching in the Arctic Circle, so the ship’s cook prepared it for dinner. That was a mistake.

Apparently, the meat of the fish is poisonous. A sailor, a soldier, two Sisterhood operatives, and I became ill after eating the fish. I think we spent more time leaning over the railing than trying to recover that night. I get the feeling that I will be the brunt of bad jokes the rest of the journey since this is the second time I’ve fed people a bad fish.

We’ve since devised an interesting method of determining the edibility of any strange fish I catch. If I don’t know what it is, it gets tossed into a barrel with some spoonfish. If the spoonfish die or will not eat it, neither will we. Just today, I had to add two more types of fish to the do not eat list, both of which were also rather colorful. It’s very interesting that the spoonfish will not touch them, since spoonfish generally eat everything.