Harry cowered, terrified, clinging onto any fixture he could reach inside the wheelhouse, as the boat gradually righted herself, slowly responded to the demands of the autopilot and started to climb the front wall of the next wave.   As the boat reared and plunged, sometimes slamming down deep into the bottom of a wave trough with walls of water high on either side, Harry’s world was coming apart.   The noise of the sea outside was competing with a constant crashing and banging from inside the boat.   Harry was too frightened to feel seasick; He didn’t know what to do so he didn’t do anything.   But after fifteen minutes, the conditions began to ease and after a further five, the Spitfire was once more cruising westward through benign seas; and the only remaining noise came from loose objects still rolling about in the saloon and cabins.

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