Go West, Young Man (?!)
The bad news: we are sailing West.
After much consideration, I brought my worries to Captain Araoz yesterday, just before we stopped to revictual, as I had begun to notice that the we started our day with the sun behind us, and slightly to port, and finished bearing nearly straight into it. He said little more than "confia en me," and then proudly produced a book:
Pulling a carefully folded leaf whence it had been tucked into the book's middle, he flourished the following map at me:
indicating through gestures and what little of his native tongue my Latin allowed me that, thankfully, he was going to continue with the overall mission as planned, despite his backers having missed the tide, but also that he considered the Straits of Magellan to be a short cut.
Factually he is correct, but jumping off the Dover cliffs is also, factually, a far quicker way to the water's edge than walking the path; rarely does either short cut leave one in few enough pieces to enjoy the time saved.