Storm and Silence(291)

Suddenly, I heard a dull thump from outside. It was repeated, and repeated again, and again, getting louder as it drew nearer.

‘What is that?’ I asked.

‘Marching feet on the metal floor,’ Mr Ambrose breathed. ‘They’re coming to unload the ship.’

Unload the ship? But… bloody hell! I was cargo now! So that included me! I stiffened.

‘Don’t move, Mr Linton!’ His voice was cold, but his breath was hot at my ear. ‘Don’t breathe. Don’t even think about making a sound. No matter how much they jostle us about, we must remain absolutely still. If they hear us, we are dead.’ He leant even closer to my ear and hissed: ‘Understood?’

A shiver ran down my spine.

‘Y-yes, Sir.’

The door to our room opened, and I heard several people enter. They bent to pick up something, and left the room again. None of them came near our crate. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Soon after, another group came, and then another, each time carrying off some of the smaller crates and sacks I had briefly seen lying about in the room. They seemed to want to make room for the big removal - in other words, us. I only hoped the big removal wouldn’t include a removal from the realm of the living.

Finally, the footsteps returned.

‘All right,’ a gruff voice called out. ‘Ye and Tom grab ‘old on that side, me, Jim and Ezra on this one.’

‘Sure. On the count of three, mates! One, two, three… ‘ere we go!’

Suddenly, the world swayed. We were lifted into the air.

‘Bloody ‘ell! That thing ain’t no sack of feathers! What did they put in there? A block of granite?’

Granite? I wasn’t that heavy, was I? My behind wasn’t that fat! It was only generous, at most. Although… there was also Mr Ambrose to consider, and he could be classified as block of granite in my book.

‘Keep your darn mouth shut!’ came the growled reply. ‘Don’t ye know what ‘appens to those as asks too many questions?’

The other man fell instantly silent. From this alone, I knew what happened to curious people in Lord Dalgliesh’s employ. Or at least I could imagine.

Groaning and moaning, but not uttering another word, the four men carried us out of the room, down the corridor and… and I knew not where. I heard the sound of waves, saw faint strips of light fall in through gaps in the wooden wall, and once fancied I heard the distant chatter of many voices. Where was I? There was no indication of where we were among the sounds, or where we were headed. Not until the scream, that is.

It was faint, so faint that I might have almost imagined it. Almost. If we had been in another place, I might have taken it for a cry of joy, or the sound of an annoyed child. But I knew better. Where we were going, there were no children, and there certainly was no joy.

But what was it then?

I had already opened my mouth to ask, when I remembered Mr Ambrose’s warning.

Silence. Absolute silence.

I clamped my mouth shut again and tried to ignore the gnawing feeling of panic in my stomach.

Silent. You must keep silent.

And I did. Somehow, though, Mr Ambrose managed to be twice as silent as I was. He seemed to radiate negative noise. It was a trick I decided I had to learn, if I survived this.

In the distance, I heard another faint cry. I couldn’t suppress the image of a dark dungeon creeping up on me. But both times, the cries had sounded like children. What kind of monster was this Lord Dalgliesh?

What few noises there were soon receded into the distance. We were venturing away from the coast, towards the centre of the island, of that much I was sure. But other than that, I knew nothing of where we were heading. There was only the rocking of the crate and the steady marching sound of the soldiers to indicate that we were moving at all.

Finally, the soldiers slowed down.

‘Halt!’

At the command, the soldiers stopped. I heard the jingling of keys and a creaking noise that was probably a door. It didn’t sound nearly creaky and sinister enough to satisfy my idea of the rusty hinges of a dungeon door, so maybe there was still hope.

‘All right, fellows. Put it down ‘ere.’

The soldiers were only too happy to comply. The crate smashed to the ground, and Mr Ambrose nearly squashed me beneath him, pressing all the air out of my lungs.

‘Mpf!’

‘Gently! Gently! The dickens knows what’s in there. ‘e will ‘ave our ‘eads on a platter if anything gets broke!’

There was no need to mention who ‘he’ was. I understood it as well as the soldiers did. They mumbled hurried apologies, and their footsteps moved away. Not long after, we heard a door lock click shut, and then there was only silence.