There are friends, and then there are boat friends. You know the ones — sailors willing to get sweaty or covered in grime to teach you how to do a project. Those buddy boats that stay up on watch with you all night and make sure you’re OK. The ones who infer over the net just how hellish your last passage was and show up with a bottle of rum to celebrate your arrival. And in the days after Irma, my husband and I and a loose group of cruisers based out of Puerto Rico wanted to be those boat friends to our island neighbors to the east.