The Sinners — Edward S. Aarons

The schooner Pan had been a proud forty-foot creature of hardwood and brass and clean, white canvas. Now, torn and wounded, her foremast gone, her mahogany decks encrusted with salt and littered with debris, she limped into the quiet cove.

Her crew had suffered a sea change, too. Two men, friends since college, had set off with their wives for a basking, leisurely year's cruise of the Caribbean. But the storm had ended all of that -- as if the wind itself had ripped away the masks of convention and courtesy to show them the primitive terrors and passions that only haunt the edges of our dreams.