Scotty watched as the lights of Cowes harbour slowly and gradually disintegrated into the falling dusk of Saturday evening. The warmth of the day had induced a shimmering haze that sat over the Solent, one that looked like a thin smog. The Island almost seemed to sit behind a veil, one that grew thicker the further away he drew and made the lights of the distant boats and houses appear to flicker epileptically as if at any moment they might just blink out.
Through his hands, which clutched the side rail of the top outer deck, he felt a vibration run through the car ferry as its engines laboured against the swell of a departing cruise ship. The hulk of Voyager of The Seas slid past, dwarfing the Red Funnel ferry and making Scotty feel as if the two-hundred and twenty car capacity ferry wer
