Grey sky and seas, the white edge of the breaks spat a briny froth over the bow of the Avalon. Through the evening air it meandered like an infernal smoke, settling in the plaits of Åge Lillebo’s beard. The man stood in the fading light and watched the night spool past, the western sky dissolving into a deep, velvet grey as the last of the sun’s embers vanished like a whisper. He placed both hands in the arch of his back and pushed out a stretch, he’d been asleep no more than an hour when the…See More