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Three-o-clock. I get up... oh, 

I forgot, my name is 

Franchesco. Ok, let's restart. 

Three-o-clock. I get up and 

wake my wife and Pedro. 

Pedro is my boy.    

It's almost time to leave 

Cuba! We are leaving 

because of the bad 

government. It is very 

dangerous. We leave our 

house in a pickup truck.

We find our rubber raft, 

which is what we'll use to 

flee. Pedro, my wife, and I 

bring the raft to the water 

and then I get our food and 

water.

We soon see a boat and start shouting 

and waving to see if they would give us a 

ride part of the way.Then we realized we 

had attracted the wrong people... the 

Cuban Navy! They sped toward us! 

Luckily, there was some bushes nearby. 

We hid there until they passed. I could 

tell this was going to be a very long, hard 

trip. 

We have been at sea for 20 days now. 

We have eaten most of of our food and 

drunk most of our fresh water supply. 

Now, we are saving the rest of the food 

for later, because we don't know how 

long this trip will take. I don't want to 

give my hopes up but I do ask myself " I 

wonder if we are going to survive this?". 

We, now 30 days at sea have eaten all 

our food and all our fresh water is 

drunk.We are starting to get puckered 

mouths. Later in the day our motor 

dies. Pedro and I had to use our oars 

to row. We are still rowing aimlessly in 

search of Florida.  

We have caught some fish and 

ate them raw. Now we are so 

thirsty we have to drink 

something. Looks like our only 

option is... SALT-WATER. It 

taste's so bad it tastes like 

rotten eggs... except worse.

Because we drank 

saltwater we got really 

sick. I was so dizzy I 

almost fell overboard. We 

all were throwing up.

Today was the toughest day of 

our trip. There was a big storm. 

We all were bumping into each 

other. Pedro fell overboard but 

we threw a rope to him and 

pulled him back to the raft. He 

was very lucky. 

Two days after the storm, Pedro and 

my arms hurt so bad, we had to stop 

rowing. Pedro suggested that we use 

his shirt as a sail. But as he took his 

shirt off, all we heard was 

"oooowwwwww!". It was Pedro 

screaming in pain. The saltwater from 

the storm had made his shirt stick to 

his skin. He had tons of cuts on him!

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