“Are there any others in about this latitude?”
“Well, there is a small one about twelve leagues east. There are no people on it though.”
“What is its name?”
“Santa Cruz.”
Brandon’s heart beat fast at the sound of that name. It must be so. It must be the island which he sought. It lay to the north of San Salvador, and its name was Santa Cruz.
“It is not down on the charts?”
“No. It is only a small islet.”
Another confirmation, for the message said plainly an islet, whereas Guahi was an island.
“How large is it?”
“Oh, perhaps a mile or a mile and a half long.”