The fog would burn off soon, we hoped, as we searched for signs of the dock jutting out into the harbor at Port Jefferson, New York. Last night, the dock had been directly off the stern of Wyntje, the Hinckley 64 on which my partner, J. Holt, worked as captain and I worked as crew. Today, in the low visibility, it felt miles away. The captain and I dilly-dallied, slowly securing items down below while enjoying cups of steaming tea. Delaying departure, we reasoned, would mean that we'd spend less time stumbling about in the dense fog choking Long Island Sound. We'd faced fog before off Southern California and while up the coast of Maine, but we hadn't applied our fog collision-avoidance skills in an area as heavily trafficked as the Sound. Finally, we could stall no longer. It was time to go.