Soon enough, though, ocean swells began to lift us. I watched the surf pound the rocky coast ahead, and as we neared open water, I noted that the wind, now right on the nose, was turning quickly brisk. I shoulda, I coulda, I didn’t. And then, we were out of the lee of land and smack dab in a mixing bowl where incoming waves met up with currents coursing out of Narragansett Bay’s two wide mouths. Powerboats sped past, churning up monstrous wakes, and Sue spilled into the cockpit, glared at me, and said, “I know where we are,” as she fled to the rail for relief. I’d forgotten what a nasty patch of water this could be when crossed too close to shore.