Silence is Golden

17. Burning Waters

BOOM! Bo-boom! Boom!

The cacophony of explosions nearly threw me off my feet. Fire spewed from the side of the ship. Smoke billowed out, and the water below was driven away from the ship in a mighty wave. For a moment, it looked as though the jaws of the ocean had opened beneath us. Then, the jaws suddenly clamped shut again. The ship rocked back into the opposite direction, and I stumbled forward, nearly flying over the side.

A strong pair of hands gripped me around the waist and pulled me back.

'Where do you think you are going, Mr Linton?'

'I'm perfectly fine! Let go of me. There's no need to shout man overboard.'

Mr Ambrose pulled me back against him. I realised how very closely he was holding me. I also realised that we were both still thoroughly wet. Through the sodden fabric, I could feel hard muscle press into my much, much softer flesh.

'Under the circumstances,' Mr Ambrose's cool voice caressed my ear, leaving frostbite in its wake, 'the expression "man overboard" would not be entirely appropriate. Wouldn't you agree, Mr Linton?'

I swallowed hard. 'Let go of me.'

Yes, please let go before I turn around and pull you closer, and start to...

'Are you sure you can stand on your own? I won't waste my time jumping in after you. I have a battle to fight.'

Images flashed through my mind of the battles we fought during our time in Egypt: hot battles under the desert sun that, more often than not, ended with both of us losing – losing most of our clothing.

Damn! Get a grip, Lilly!

'I said let go!'

Silently, he released me and stepped back. I felt the sudden urge to whirl around and throw myself into his arms. But a moment later, I heard his cold, calculated voice right behind me.

'Ready, Karim?'

Those two little words brought me right back to reality. Bloody hell! We were in the middle of our own little war!

'Yes, Sahib.'

'Adequate. Let us proceed.'

Mr Ambrose's eyes focused on the distant Argentinian ships. Smoke was rising from one of the ships, and I could hear confused shouts over the waves.

'Um, Mr Ambrose,' I began, 'are you sure it's a wise decision to–'

'Silence! Prepare the guns!'

All right, I guess that was an answer.

'Load cartridge!"

All over the ship, powder boys lifted gunpowder cartridges and shoved them into cannons. It was a perfectly synchronised movement of deadly precision. Almost unwillingly, I smiled to myself. Of course it was! This was Mr Ambrose's ship.

'Ram cartridge!'

The powder boys jumped aside, and the rammers shoved the powder charge all the way back to the breech end of the barrel.

'Load round!"

Cannonballs were lifted to the mouth of the cannons. On the Argentinian ships, a flurry of movement ensued as the crews tried to turn in time to evade the shot. But they had no chance. Mr Ambrose's commands fell from his granite lips in a fast, merciless staccato.

'Ram round!'

The cannonballs were shoved into the barrel.

'Run out!'