Adozen years after he set out to sail around the world, Max Young was entering the homestretch—an 850-mile haul from Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, to San Diego, then a 500-mile hop to San Francisco. On a moonless night in June 2012, his 50-foot cutter, Reflections, cruised northward, propelled by a steady breeze, its rudder guided by autopilot. Young, 67, sat in the pilothouse, gazing out at a magnificent conflagration of stars. The retired schoolteacher wished that his wife, who’d skipped this leg of the trip, were there to share the beauty.
A yawn escaped him. Usually, Young slept all day when he was sailing solo so he’d be fully alert to meet the challenges of nighttime navigation. Today, however, he had only catnapped: The ocean had been full of whales—grays,…