We are now approaching the dock. And, despite Charles warning the towboat driver that Argonaut has a lot of momentum and politely suggesting that perhaps, if he would be so kind, he might wish to slow down a little earlier than usual, Argonaut is coming in hot!

I throw the stern line ashore, and then the spring. The dockside line-handler takes his sweet time to tie off. Meanwhile, we are showing no signs of slowing down. Argonaut’s aforementioned momentum is ploughing us hard into the timber dock, rendering our fenders all but useless as they cave under the pressure.

I wake up rested for the first time in what feels like an age. Argonaut, in contrast, is like a disaster zone. A ceiling panel dangles, held up only by a single electrical wire. Everything is everywhere. It reeks of fuel. And it’s so damp inside that I can still see salt water droplets fully formed. The scale of what we have experienced this passage, I am not ready to comprehend. So I don’t.