Now, now we begin to believe it. We are crossing the Atlantic in the Nao Santa María, the Nao that has worked so hard, headaches and joys. Our wooden house.
We have been a thousand miles since we sailed from the port of Mazagón, and we still have another two thousand three hundred before arriving in Puerto Rico. Two thousand three hundred miles of battles with the ocean, which never tires of showing us its immensity and the perpetuity of its swing, to which we have adapted with surprising simplicity in this voyage. It is seen that the good of Neptune has not wanted to be too severe with us at the moment.
We dedicate a large part of our time on board to the care that La Santa needs, and the rest, to fishing, reading or simple talk between crewmates. Any everyday thing ceases to be so for the simple fact of being doing it on this ship, and the brotherhood that is brewing among the companions of adventure begins to become noticeable among many of us.
Our Captain, he told us just after leaving the Island of La Gomera, that this trip was going to be a before and after for many of us, and we are all sure of it. I have no idea what aspects will change in us, but I do know, or at least bet for it, that those changes will be for the better, that we will be bigger and stronger people when this nautical pilgrimage that we are dealing with has concluded.
There is also time, or at least there is time for servant, to remember the loved ones and the Mother, who surely takes me in the mind as those of my companions took them to them. By the way, tomorrow is my birthday, so: Congratulations, Mom, a huge hug from your son, who is with his brothers crossing an ocean aboard the beautiful Santa Maria.