Then, one by one—in dribbles and drabs—they drifted away, heading back to America, Germany, Holland, Austria, France, England, Spain, and Scandinavia.
Winter was the best season. Our numbers had dwindled. All the fair-weather sailors had fled, and we were the only Americans in the marina. We'd gather each evening over galley tables to spin tales of 30-foot seas, a 50-knot meltemi, and evil boatloads of Somali