Silence Is Golden (Storm and Silence 3)

I gave a curtsy and started to leave the room. I was already at the door when, from behind me, I heard a gruff voice murmur: ‘Be careful, will you?’

*~*~**~*~*

When I arrived the next morning at St Katherine’s Docks, Mr Ambrose was already there, overseeing a group of men loading crates and barrels on board his favourite vessel, the Mammon. The men looked exhausted. Mr Ambrose looked as fresh as frozen daisies.

I saluted. ‘Good morning, Sir! Here I am, present and correct.’

‘And late.’ Fishing his watch out of his pocket, he let it snap open. ‘You should have been here twenty-one seconds ago, Mr Linton.’

‘Not according to my watch, Sir.’

‘Then your watch is slow. Correct that fault, Mr Linton.’

‘Yes, Sir!’ I promised, secretly vowing to myself to pinch his watch sometime soon and put it back twenty-one seconds. Curiously, I let my gaze drift over all the men who were hard at work lugging stuff onto the ship - a lot more than any sensible man would need for a journey, let alone someone as frugal as Mr Ambrose. Besides, most of what they carried weren’t travel bags or trunks. They were crates and barrels.

‘What’s all this?’ I gestured to the men and their burdens.

‘Items.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘I had already noticed that, Sir. Items for what?’

‘For sale. Since we are going all the way to South America, we might as well take some wares to trade. No reason not to make a little profit on this trip. It will probably be the only money we will make on this foolish excursion.’

‘Where will we be selling?’

‘In Argentina. I am expanding my business there. There is a lot of wealth in the country, but little industry. An ideal market for industrial goods.’

The last few crates were carried on board. A sailor appeared at the railing and waved to get our attention.

‘Mr Ambrose? Mr Ambrose, Sir? We’re ready to cast off!’

Mr Ambrose gave the man a curt nod, and he disappeared. Half turning towards me, my employer cocked his head. ‘You have the file with the English translation of the seventeenth-century manuscript?’

I padded my pocket. ‘All here, Sir.’

‘Adequate. I put you in charge of deciphering the directions, Mr Linton. I will have enough to do planning the sale of the wares and commanding the ship.’

‘Commanding the… Do you mean to

say you plan to be at the helm yourself?’

‘Of course!’ He turned away and marched off towards the ship. ‘You don’t think I’d waste money on a captain, do you?’

‘No, Sir. Of course not, Sir.’

‘Hurry, Mr Linton! We haven’t got a minute to lose.’

‘I thought a sea journey like this takes weeks and weeks, Sir?’

‘All the more reason not to waste any time now!’

‘Yes, Sir!’

The moment we stepped on board, he called: ‘Haul in the gangplank!’

Never in my life had I seen any captain’s orders being obeyed that fast. In a matter of minutes, the sails were set, and we were moving towards the exit of the dock, the Thames awaiting us ahead. When we had just slipped out of the dock, I noticed two vessels veering off and following us.

‘What are those?’ I demanded, pointing.