He would have turned 36 the next day. Was it him, up there, who switched off the wind to make our lives easier when we had to turn back?

We cast off around 6 p.m. with a flawless maneuver to leave our berth, and a slightly more risky one to pull up alongside the fuel dock between the motorboats. This earned me a thorough mansplanation of how the propeller causes the stern of the boat to veer to the left when reversing, a capricious behavior I’ve been dealing with for six years… In short, 90 liters of diesel fuel in Obelix’s belly and a shower later, we were on our way, heading south, two reefs in the mainsail and a genoa not fully unfurled to take it easy on a broad reach in 18-23 knots and a weather window promising to propel us to Menorca in some 36 to 40 hours, depending on the models.

We were making good progress, reaching speeds of seven knots, when after an hour the bilge pump activated twice in five minutes. I immediately alerted Thomas, who was cooking downstairs. He went to inspect the engine room and noticed an oily liquid, which he began to scoop up to get a better look, armed with a sponge and a basin that he filled and then poured into a bucket that Azur brought up through the hatch in the aft cabin so that Zephyr could empty it overboard while I steered. He thinks it’s dishwater that has leaked out, but he quickly realizes that the boat is actually taking on sea water through the sink drain valve and that we hadn’t noticed it until now because a grease plug must have been sealing the leak in the damaged through-hull fitting. He puts an end to our dreams of an idyllic stay in Cala Pregonda by ordering us to return to port, any port, immediately. All in all, it works out well, as the wind has strangely shifted and dropped, making the return to Carnon less painful than we might have anticipated. We lower the sails, I open the throttle, and the continuous bailing continues.

Zephyr and Azur switch places and take turns talking about their feelings and funny stories to lighten the mood. Azur, upset that the sea adventure ended so quickly, manages to take things in stride, imagining himself writing to his new camp friend to tell him about our false start: “Today we set off for the Balearic Islands, but as we were starting to sink, we turned back.” Zephyr doesn’t comment much, but must be secretly delighted at this incredible opportunity to see his girlfriend again instead of being isolated with his parents and little brother for three weeks. For my part, I am obsessed with the desire to finally go dancing and try to compensate for my extreme frustration by seeking a euphoria similar to that felt the previous week at the tango festival in Mèze, where all my friends were.

Fortunately, the day stretches on, and the calm sea and the flamboyant sunset behind Pic St Loup bring a little poetry to the situation. Around 10 p.m., Obélix and his crew returned safely to place D24. Thomas prepared to dive and insert a pin into the through-hull fitting. Unable to be of any help, I excused myself, convinced that it was in everyone’s best interest for my mood to improve.

Once the temporary repair has been made, the guys watch an adventure film while I find some sympathetic souls at the Nuit du Tango d’Agde, still wondering how on earth the wind dropped so suddenly just as we noticed the damage.