Speed boat

Some of my most memorable holidays have been with my sister. One of the first, that didn’t involve my parents, was in Cornwall in the South West corner of the UK.
My sister’s friend, Pam, had a boyfriend called Bill. Bill lived in Cornwall and he also had a speedboat. He wasn’t rich, I think he was either a fisherman, a member of the coastguard or a smuggler. It was so long ago that I can’t quite remember what he did for a living. I do remember he was a really nice guy who spoke with a funny Cornish accent and had a thick black moustache.
One night we went out on Bill’s boat. We’d been drinking a lot and we even had some booze with us on the boat as well. I loved the feeling of the salty sea spray on my face and the way the boat bounced violently up and down as it cut through the waves.
We sped out to sea for about 45 minutes and suddenly we could make out a huge black shadow in the distance. The moon was nearly full and flashes of light reflected off the choppy sea.
As we drew closer, we could see the dark outline of a huge tanker. Bill pulled alongside and tied his small boat to the side of the tanker. I remember how our boat rose and fell against the immoveable black wall of the huge tanker.
After a while we pulled away and sped back to shore. Bill said he wanted to say ‘hi’ to a friend on the tanker, but thinking back, it must have been some kind of nefarious deed that had taken him out to a tanker in the middle of the night.
Whatever the reason, I’ll never forget that boat trip and the sensation of moving at speed through a rough Cornish Sea.

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