Silence Is Golden (Storm and Silence 3)

I grabbed the railing, just in time to keep myself from being thrown overboard by the force of the recoil. The deafening roar of cannons slammed into my ears and the bright fire burned my eyes, but at least I remained on my feet. That was more than you could say for most of the crew of the biggest Argentinian ship.

Even over all the distance, I thought I could hear shouts and bellowed, panicked orders - then the cannonballs slammed into the ship’s hull, tearing through wood, tar and metal as if it were crepe paper. One cannonball ripped through a sail, and the mast it was attached to groaned in agony.

But the other two ships had caught on to what was happening by now. They were turning fast, their crews bustling over the decks like ants. Cannons appeared out of the side of one of the ships.

‘Err…Mr Ambrose?’ I began. ‘I think they are going to-’

Before I could finish, Mr Ambrose was beside me, and suddenly, my body was encased in an iron grip, shoving me to the planks.

‘Down!’

Boom!

Even lessened by the distance, the explosion was still ear-splitting. The wind screamed as missiles ripped through the air, and next I was expecting to hear the crunch of wood being crushed under the weight of cannonballs. But instead, I heard a strange ripping noise. Above me, Mr Ambrose snorted.

‘I don’t see anything remotely amusing about this situation!’ I hissed.

‘I am not amused, Mr Linton. On the contrary.’ He pushed himself to his feet, pulling me up behind him as if I weighed no more than a feather, which, let me assure you, was not the case. ‘If anything, I am contemptuous. They’re using chain shots. They’re destroying our rigging.’

‘Rigg- What? My knots? They’re shooting at my knots?’

‘Indeed they are.’

Frantically, I whipped my head up to the sails - or rather, to where the sails had once hung. All that w

as left now were stained rags.

‘Bloody hell!’

‘Don’t excite yourself, Mr Linton.’

‘Don’t excite myself? We’re never going to escape now!’

‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ Striding to the railing, Mr Ambrose raised one arm. An officer at the other side of the ship snapped to attention. Mr Ambrose’s arm came down, in a signal. ‘Full steam ahead!’

The officer turned to a trap door in the deck of the ship, and repeated the shout: ‘Full steam ahead!’

Only moments later, the ship rumbled to life like a volcano before a big eruption. It shot forward, against the wind, out of the firing range of the enemy ships. Watching, awestruck, my heart hammering in my chest, I saw the Midas and the Croesus follow suit. Clouds of steam rose from amidst their masts.

‘They’re steamships,’ I breathed. ‘They’re all steamships!’

‘Of course they are.’ Mr Ambrose was still standing at the railing, arms crossed, his back to me. ‘Did you think I would go into battle unprepared, Mr Linton?’

My eyes narrowed. ‘I didn’t even know we were going into battle, Sir! I thought this was a trading expedition!’

‘You should know me better than that by now, Mr Linton. Wherever I go, I go into battle.’

He raised his hand again in another signal, a silent one this time. The ship swerved. Looking around, I noticed that we were not moving away from the enemy ships. On the contrary. We were moving around and towards them.

‘Err…Mr Ambrose?’

He didn’t pay any attention to me.

‘Mr Ambrose, Sir?’

He motioned to the men again, and everyone who had been taking cover because of the enemy fire re-emerged, returning to their positions at the cannons.

‘Mr Ambrose? We are going to escape, aren’t we, Sir? We are going to sail away? After all, with the steam engines, we are bound to be faster than they are!’