As we raced northward under the setting sun I watched the coast of Zanzibar pass by in the darkening evening. The mangrove estuary was now flooded with high tide and many of the ships we'd admired in dry dock now floated idly in the shallow water. We heeled over slightly in the stiff breeze, but the dhow trimmed nicely along the waterline. Issa adjusted the thick mainsheet incessantly, going for that very last bit of performance from his wooden craft. Out of habit, my eyes surveyed the bilge and the wooden keel, looking for pooling water. It was dry as a bone.