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while everyone went up and down carrying their own blankets and throwing down the other's, until we all found ourselves on the roof and burst out laughing.

Sitting in a circle like Indians, sipping a last bottle of wine to clear our heads, we continued to argue under the star-studded sky. In the end, Marita's will prevailed to sleep on the roof, under the moon, with Jaime at her side.

It was certainly not expected that the stars and the moon would give way to clouds during the night. A sudden shower of rain bathed the Pilar inside and out, making him dance a kind of cha-cha-cha despite being anchored in a very Escondido Puerto*.

Although the night had not been restful, the dawn found us in a good mood and at the first rays of a pale sun we were all very active, some aboard, some ashore, some by sea.

Back on the Pilar, we had just finished eating something when Gregorio looked at the now blue sky, smelled the air, shook his head. If the marquise wanted to return to Cojimar, she had to leave immediately, he said. The weather was not good. I looked at the clear blue sky and thought Gregorio was speaking strangely. Marita too looked at the clear blue sky, laughed, said she wasn't ready yet. Gregorio checked the Tin Kid, brought a couple of lines on board and repeated that we had to leave because the weather was bad. Marita said she would be ready in a while.

Papa warned Marita that it was more prudent to listen to Gregorio because he knew about the sea. Gianfranco and I decided to accompany Marita and Jaime. Gregorio looked at the sky again, jumped into the Tin Kid and started the engine: we had to leave, he said.

This navigation was also very pleasant: almost smooth sea, almost clear sky, just spotted here and there by white clouds. When we arrived in Cojimar, Jaime and Marita...

* a secure port? I'm not sure if she is trying to be witty here, the publisher erred or my lack of translation skills are showing through once more.