CHAPTER 113: THE THREAT BEHIND THE STEAM

After entering the mine, the cold English air cut through Francisco and everyone else present. A thick smoke hung in the air—similar to what he had seen upon arriving in Newcastle, though this was far denser, almost suffocating. The sharp smell of coal forced him to cover his nose.

As he approached the colliery head, a deafening rhythm echoed through the chamber—clank, hiss, clank, hiss. The sound was overwhelming, yet for some reason, Francisco felt an intense pull toward it.

The ambassador tried to say something behind him, but Francisco couldn’t hear a word, completely absorbed by the machinery before him. He watched the enormous engine with childlike awe—the coal emerging from the mine in quantities of hundreds of kilograms, perhaps even tons.

After a while, the ambassador and Murdoch stepped away from the noise.

Murdoch smiled as he spoke to Agustín, the Spanish ambassador. "You see, sir? If Spain were to purchase machines like this, your mines could yield far greater production. And, as a representative of Boulton and Watt, I can assure you—there would be... generous discounts."

Francisco, overhearing, frowned slightly. "Are you referring to this double-cylinder engine?" he asked, curiosity in his tone.

Murdoch’s smile froze for an instant. The British Parliament had forbidden him from selling the latest generation of steam engines to foreign rivals, even temporary allies like Spain. But he quickly regained his composure. "I’m afraid those models are not for sale," he said coolly. "However, we can offer you earlier designs—still quite effective."

Francisco simply nodded, saying nothing more, but his mind was already racing.

The ambassador nodded thoughtfully. "I’m rather interested... but it isn’t possible to purchase the engine from this mine, is it?"

Murdoch shrugged lightly. "That depends on the government. I’m only a merchant, after all. Perhaps if you can persuade our ambassador during the alliance negotiations, he might allow me to sell one to you."

The ambassador frowned, rubbing his temple as if a headache were coming on. He understood Murdoch’s meaning well enough: if Spain offered certain advantages to Britain during the alliance talks, they might gain access to the engines directly from Murdoch himself.

"Let me think about it," he said carefully. "This is not a decision I can make alone. I’ll need to consult His Majesty."

Murdoch nodded with a polite smile. Then he turned to Francisco. "Do you have any questions about the machine, young man?"

Francisco hesitated for a moment, then asked curiously, "Could this engine be used on a boat—to push it forward?"

A heavy silence fell over the group. Eyes widened. The ambassador went pale.

Seeing everyone’s reaction, Francisco tilted his head. "Why are you all silent? Did I say something wrong?"

Murdoch and the ambassador exchanged uneasy glances before forcing a laugh. "It’s just... an imaginative idea," Murdoch said, trying to sound casual. "You’d need coal and water to power it, and since ships are made of wood, well—they’d likely catch fire."

A few chuckles followed, but Francisco, clearly intrigued, pressed on. "Then couldn’t you use metal instead? Your country," he said, nodding toward Murdoch, "already builds ships with metal plating. You could place some metal inside the hull—at least where the engine sits—to protect it."

Murdoch frowned, his confidence wavering. "I’m afraid not, lad. The weight of the metal would make it impossible for this engine to move the ship."

Francisco’s eyes lit up. "So... you mean a more advanced engine might

be able to do it, right?"

Murdoch froze, realizing too late that he’d been led into the boy’s line of thought. He said nothing.

The ambassador, watching him, felt a chill. Francisco had unknowingly touched the core of the matter. If Britain ever succeeded in placing a steam engine on a ship, they would no longer depend on wind or current. They could cross the Atlantic at will—strike at the colonies whenever they pleased, even Cuba, the crown’s most precious jewel.

As the ambassador silently calculated the implications, he realized with growing dread that what he had first seen as a simple machine... might one day become the most dangerous weapon in the world.

The rest of the journey passed in silence. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, calculating the implications of what they had just witnessed. Once outside the mine, Francisco and the ambassador returned to their inn to rest.

The next morning, as their carriage rattled back toward London, Francisco noticed the dark circles under the ambassador’s eyes—two shadowy marks of a sleepless night.

"Are you all right, Mr. Ambassador? You look... rather terrible," Francisco said, half-concerned, half-amused.

The ambassador flinched slightly, then turned to him with a grave expression. "Tell me, Francisco—do you truly believe those engines could move a ship?"

Francisco shrugged lightly. "I don’t know. But in theory... maybe. If they had enough power. I’m not exactly an expert, though."

The ambassador shut his eyes tightly, exhaling through his nose as if trying to push the thought away. Then he turned to his aide. "Miguel," he said in a low, weary voice, "when we return to New Granada, you’ll write a full report to His Majesty. Include everything that happened here—and Francisco’s speculation about those engines. Something tells me our work is about to become a hundred times harder."

Miguel didn’t answer at first. The young aide sat in silence, staring at the passing countryside. The idea of a ship powered by steam, free from wind or current, was terrifying. He had thought Britain’s industrial power was already a threat—but now, he realized, this was only the beginning.

Finally, he nodded solemnly. "Understood, sir."

And the ambassador wasn’t the only one who grasped the weight of what had just happened.As soon as the Spanish delegation disappeared down the road, Murdoch turned sharply to the soldiers behind him—men who clearly hadn’t understood the conversation’s significance.

"Quick! I need paper and a pen," he ordered. "And send for the fastest messenger you can find. This news must reach London immediately."

The soldiers hesitated for a second, startled by his sudden urgency, before hurrying to obey. Murdoch’s usually calm face was tense now, his eyes fixed in the direction where the Spaniards had gone.

If that boy’s idea spreads, he thought grimly, then the age of sails will end sooner than anyone expected.

He took the pen the moment it arrived and began to write furiously. This was not something to be sent through the navy—it had to go through the company, where the news would reach the right men, and faster.